


After the Fire

by Stark_on_the_Iron_Throne (Keepcalmanddontgetangry)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Death, Fire, Gen, Weechesters, single parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:23:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keepcalmanddontgetangry/pseuds/Stark_on_the_Iron_Throne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is never easy to tell your child that their mother is dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ["A Father’s Promise" - John/wee!Dean moment](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/28069) by Talkmagically. 



> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. No profit has been made.

That was it. She was gone. It took a few days for him to actually make sense of it all. There had been so much that he’d had to do, to organise. It took awhile for the reality of what had happened to hit him. They’d needed to find a place to stay, the house had been ruined, and the boys needed somewhere to go. God knew that there was no family out there that he could lean on, Mary had been that family. He’d had to take care of the funeral arrangements too, not there had been much of a body left, it killed him to think about it... the pain she must have been in... then talk to the fire department and the police so they could rule out any foul play and agree that it had just been some sort of freak accident.

Only it hadn't. John knew that it hadn't.

"Mmm."

The sound his eldest son made as he tugged at his father's leg caused John to come out of his trance and look down at him. Dean was finding it difficult to sleep. Hell, John was too. The only one of them who got any rest was Sammy, and even he seemed different... No. No, that wasn't true, that was his mind playing tricks on him because he hadn't been sleeping. Sammy was the same, he was too young to understand what had happened. But Dean... it had been difficult to explain to him what had happened.

Shortly after the fire had been put out, they had been moved into an ambulance to make sure that none of them had sustained any physical injuries. Dean had turned to John and asked: "We've seen the doctors now, when's Mommy going to see the doctors?"

John would always remember the look on his son's face when he'd told him that she wouldn't be seeing any of the doctors. His son, his poor little boy who was only four and whose mind would do everything it could to block out the tragedy that he had witnessed, had then replied: "Because she's okay and doesn't need to see one?"

It broke John's heart to deny him that too. Broke it more than it already had been.

"You're right, son," he had started, wrapping a large arm around Dean's small shoulders, "She doesn't need a doctor. Where Mommy is now she isn't in any pain."

"Can we go see her then?" Dean had interrupted, his voice getting higher as his own worst fears began to reveal themselves, "I want to see Mommy!"

"I know... I know... I want, I want to see her too. But we can't, Dean, we can't see her again. She's not... she's not here anymore, son... Sh--she died."

As John spoke, he could hear his voice break with emotion on the last two words. He held both of his sons tight, not wanting either of them to see him cry. He was all they had left, he couldn't show them the sort of weakness that tears would bring. It was then that the change in Dean had happened. It was then that his boy had stopped talking. John didn't blame him, as much as he wished that the boy would tell him what he was thinking.

And now they were sitting here in this cheap motel. Dean on his lap with his head buried against John’s chest and Sammy sleeping the night away in his cot. John put a hand on the back of Dean's head. He was there to watch over them both as they slept or didn't sleep. He was there to protect them from whatever it was that had killed his wife. It hadn't been a natural death. There was something else out there. Something evil.

"Dean..." John coughed and then cleared his throat to start again, "Dean, listen to me, I swear to you, you and Sammy are the two most important things to me, and I won't let anything hurt you--get to you--you understand? Nothing." He paused as he felt his son nod. But more words were coming as anger rose in him, though he didn't let it show in any other way than the tone of his voice. "I'd do anything for you, son, for you both. I'd die for you, but, listen here, I'd kill for you both too." Dean's little hands clenched into his shirt as John felt it grow wet. Nothing wrong with his boy crying, even though he shouldn't have to be. "Dean," John said again, this time with a tone of finality to his voice, "I'm gunna kill the son-of-a-bitch that did this to us. You understand? I'm going to fucking slaughter it."

 


End file.
